


like brothers under the sun

by cirque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beach Holidays, Childhood, Family, Pre-Canon, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 19:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirque/pseuds/cirque
Summary: Petunia sent Vernon a postcard, letting him know she was fine, that Dudley was enjoying himself. She didn't leave a forwarding address. She didn't give him hope that she would return anytime soon. She was unsure when or if that would be - was unsure, honestly, how much she was willing to forgive.





	like brothers under the sun

Petunia and Vernon separated once, briefly, the autumn when the boys were six. It was over Harry, inevitably. Vernon knew how rich Potter had been, and said the boy owed them reparations - for upkeep, he said, of the scrawny little orphan. Vernon had threatened to toss the boy out on the curb. It was scarcely different from all the other disagreements they had about him, but - Vernon had taken the boy from his bed by the scruff of his neck and demanded Petunia tell him where the money had gone. He saw red and raised his fist to the tiny child who cried and screamed and sent steam from his fingertips, but still Vernon’s fist hung in the air.

So she'd left, in the dead of night when the prying eyes were fast asleep, crammed the boys and a suitcase into the car and called it an extended holiday. A break. Drove herself to the east coast and let the icy winds whip sand around her expensive shoes while the boys built a castle near the shoreline, and cared not a jot for the mess the sea breeze was making of her perm. They had not always hated each other, her chalk and cheese boys. Hate was a difficult thing for little bodies to maintain and though they argued, often, and though Dudley knew Harry was _different_ , they were agreeable much of the time - at least when Vernon wasn't around.

“Pass the big rock.” Said Dudley. He never had time for manners, was always rushing, always moving and stomping and lively where Harry was calm and collected.

Harry handed over the rock and Dudley set it in place, completing their moat of pebbles. Together they watched the tide come in and, with a cheer, their moat fill up.

“Dinnertime!” Petunia yelled over the choppy gusts, and they both groaned, both rolled around dramatically and got sand in their clothes. She glared them down and they stood, reluctantly, leaving the castle to the mercy of the tide and racing each other barefoot to the promenade.

“What would you like for dinner?” She asked, as she toweled off sandy feet and eased them into battered trainers.

“Burgers!” Said Dudley, who always wanted burgers.

“Burgers!” Said Harry, who was just as bad.

“Burgers…” Said Petunia. “Alright, but tomorrow we're having something decent. And you'll eat some fruit before bed, okay?”

Two little chins nodded and she smiled despite herself. It was easy to forget what she had ran away from, easy to slip into the persona of jovial single mum, holding both her boys by the hand as they made a beeline towards the burger restaurant. It was the easiest thing in the world to pretend everything was normal, that they would eat and go back to the cramped chalet and she'd kiss the boys goodnight and pretend she was doing a good job. That she wasn't, in fact, floundering, drowning under the weight of missing her husband and hating him, missing her sister and hating her.

  
She sent Vernon a postcard the next day, letting him know she was fine, that Dudley was enjoying himself. She didn't leave a forwarding address. She didn't give him hope that she would return anytime soon. She was unsure when or if that would be - was unsure, honestly, how much she was willing to forgive. His fat hands tight on Harry’s neck, his fist raised and shaking… It was not something she had ever wanted to happen when she took in her sister's orphan. She had never expected Vernon to have something so virulent within him. As Petunia looked at Harry sleeping, or waiting patiently in the breakfast line, or drawing incomprehensible figures with felt tip pens - he was innocent, surely? He was a child.

“When are we going home?” Said Dudley, on their fifth morning, chomping on a sausage for breakfast.  
Petunia carefully lay down her toast. “Soon. Aren't you enjoying our holiday?”

“Yeah.” He said, mouth full.

Harry scooped up some cereal and nodded sagely, as if he was well aware of why they were there, and why they were keeping up this pretence.

“Can we go on the arcades today?” Dudley asked around his bacon, as though he had no clue at all, and of course he didn't. She wasn't sure which reaction hurt the most.

“We'll see.”

Dudley took that as an affirmation and grinned toothily, and rejoined the breakfast queue in search of more sausages, leaving Harry staring unblinkingly at her across the table.  
He was an odd boy at the best of times. The moon to Dudley’s burning sun. He had a fat bruise coming up on his collarbone and she winced. It was not his first.

“I'm sorry Aunt Petunia.”

“What for?”

“I'm the reason you and Uncle Vernon had a fight.”  
A lot of things muddled around in her head, a dozen different answers, ways she could make it easier on him - but she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just eat your breakfast. We've got a long day in the arcades ahead of us.”

  
She left the boys to it in the arcade. She bought an 80p paper cup of tea that tasted like granite and sat on the edge, looking out over the promenade, at the rainbow of tacky stalls and noisy rides and endless sources of sweets. She allowed herself a cigarette, breathing it in slowly with the salty sea air and closed her eyes to all the chaos around her. She thought of finding a payphone and calling her husband, though she wasn't sure what she would say, or if she was ready to hear whatever he had to say for himself. He would be sorry by now, surely. He'd be ready to talk. She was probably making it worse by being out here, unhinged by the sea, wasting time. The sea rolled in and out, relentless, and she had no idea what to do. She wondered if this was how Lily had felt after they'd fell out.

“Mum, guess what?”

Dudley's excited voice cut through her thoughts and she turned to see her son struggling with a plastic bucket filled with pennies, overflowing with coins that spilt out onto the floor with each hobbling step he took.

“Mum, guess what Harry did!”

It was wrong of her to laugh, but she did it anyway, let it slide from her body as she watched her nephew guiltily follow Dudley with an overflowing bucket of his own, a bemused look on his face.  
“Jackpot!” She laughed, and decided it was time for an early dinner, lest any of the officials realise that Harry had won his body-weight in two pence pieces by less than savoury means.

  
She called him after eight days of relative peace. Eight days of seaside relaxation, eight days of watching her boys play like brothers under the sun. Eight days of wondering if she even had a home to take them back to.

He answered on the third ring.

“No cold callers!” He barked.

“Vernon, it's me.”

Silence, but for his laboured breathing as his clueless mouth worked, deciding what to say. She had loved him once, she must have.

“How are you?”

She swallowed. “We're fine. Dudley's loving it.”

“‘Course he is. We Dursleys love to be beside the seaside.”

She closed her eyes. “You understand why I left?”

She heard his teeth snap together. “I - uh - yes.” He was silent as he considered his words, something which she knew to be a rarity. “I shouldn't’ve raised my hand to the boy. Bad mistake.”

“He's got a bruise Vernon - from where you grabbed him.”

“Right - ugh - I'll be gentler.”

“You can't raise your fist to him again. God knows what he'd do.”

Vernon growled at that. “But you're coming home, eh love?”

She had thought perhaps she could do it alone, raise two boys, get a job and watch the years fly by. It was the stability she'd miss, that Dudley needed. She sighed. “Yes. Tomorrow?”

“Great! That's fab. Uh - see you then?”

“Yes, goodbye.”

He hung up without telling her he loved her, which was just as well. She'd never make it alone. She needed him. She leaned against the cold sticky glass of the telephone box and looked outside to where Harry and Dudley were sat dutifully on a bench. They were sharing a comic book between them. They had an ice cream each and she smiled, big and genuine, to see that no matter how much time passed, or how many bites they took, the ice creams didn't decrease or melt, and the boys kept on reading, oblivious to the magic.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even go here ~


End file.
